


Seven Words

by KingpinCobblepot (Theonlylucysaxon)



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, BIG OLE PWP, Bottom Edward, Enemies to Lovers, Fingering, I haven't posted in a while, I think I would put it post s5e11, Just the boys do the things, M/M, No season specified?, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Oswald, Use your imagination to place it wherever you like!, but before the finale?, handjobs, no serious kinkage, vaguely ashamed this is what I come back with but oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 07:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19194121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theonlylucysaxon/pseuds/KingpinCobblepot
Summary: This was knocking around in my drive for ages but I finally finished it. Just sex basically. Ed goes to Oswald seeking what we all know he wants, only to find that what he gets is maybe what he was truly after. Introspective. Sentimental. The way Riddler/Penguin sex always is for me. Hope you enjoy!





	Seven Words

**Author's Note:**

> I am hoping to be more active and start plucking of my WIPS now that I am on summer break. Stay tuned for all those updates, guys, and thank you so much for your patience and continued support. Also sorry about the summary-- I seem to have forgotten how to write them? XD

The darkness in the room seemed all too familiar. Like the quiet promise of things being unmasked amidst the eerie veil of a still night. They stood so close. Yet not close enough. Ed knew what he was doing when he came here. It had been with purpose. His body trembled beneath his pajamas, glasses slipping down his nose as he couldn't bare to look up. He was too ashamed. Too embarrassed. After everything, he couldn't even say the words. 

It would have been cute to Oswald once upon a time. Even now seeing Ed be so demure stirred at that fondness in Oswald's chest. But that wasn't enough to stop the other feelings seeing him like this brought up. For all his affection, love, adoration, admiration, and respect-- so much of which had been rejected and thrown back in the king-pin’s face again and again… One thing remained for him with certainty. 

_ Lust.  _

“Why are you here?” The penguin managed to sound almost disinterested as he stepped closer to Ed who still wouldn't look up at him. Ed had been asleep, Oswald had been… Doing what Oswald did best-- working. Still clad in his suit, from his cufflinks to his socked feet, no doubt he had only just returned from whatever business might have been when Ed came in here. 

Like this. 

“Oswald, y-you know why.” his response was weak and scared. He  _ felt _ weak and scared. In so many ways Ed had no idea what he was even doing. He had never imagined things would be like this. And yet here they were. 

“That's not an answer.” Oswald's smirk was audible in his tone. God Ed hated that smirk. He hated it so much and could hardly explain why in this moment as he glanced up to see it, it made his pulse quicken. Some strange coincidence clearly. That's all. 

“Because I’m a glutton for punishment.” Ed grumbled. How was it possible? How could he hate and want the man all at once? The chuckle that escaped Oswald was breathy and filled Edward with chills. “Oswald… Just… Stop this.” He said, sounding firmer. He needed this. He was sure they both did in fact, and the games needed to be done. The back and forth, the chase, the fight… It all needed to be done because he no longer cared about anything more than the tempting outline the moon cast over Oswald’s angular features. He looked striking in the dimness. Almost beautiful even. 

His eyes looked away again but this time, Oswald’s hand was out. He held his chin and lifted it to force eye contact between them. 

“Say the words.” 

Ed was speechless. Somehow. By some miracle. Ed was never quiet after all and he never struggled to find an abundance of words, witty comebacks and clever insults. Yet here and now he stood breathless before his closest friend and his most powerful enemy-- and they were the same man. And that man was all Ed had been able to think of the last few hours spent tossing and turning drenched in a cold sweat in his bed. He wanted him so much it was consuming him and Oswald could see it flickering there behind those dark eyes he was so fond of. A sort of all consuming want that was burning Ed alive, from the inside out. Slowly engulfing him. 

Good. 

Now Ed could know how it felt for a change. 

Ed’s silence only seemed to spur on Oswald’s little power play as the shorter man now moved in closer still and drew a deep ragged breath. He seemed just as unsure as Ed, which only made his sense of overwhelming dominance all that much worse. It wasn’t fair. Why did he get to be in control? Why was Ed the one coming to his room? Why was Ed the one having to ask when they both were so desperate in this moment and both so obviously unsteady? The short answer was simply that Ed had rejected Oswald before and if he wanted him now? Well he could certainly damn well be the one to ask.

“Oswald, please.” 

Ed struggled to find his voice. 

“Wrong words.”  

Oswald simply smirked in reply. 

And then came a fresh silence between them. Oswald’s fingers gripping his chin was all the contact they shared other than just their eyes-- well, not really JUST. The gaze between them-- the one each held out of both longing and stubbornness, the one which was a mix of hunger for devouring each other and a determination not to be the one to take the first figurative bite left the two of them at a stalemate. One that Ed could never manage to hold. He knew that. He had come here because his resolve was breaking first. With everything which they had done to one another, Ed never dreamed in the midst of all the fighting and the battles, of chasing Oswald and wanting nothing more than to hear him bellow the name Ridder in a pained screech as Ed plunged a knife into his heart… He never fathomed  _ this _ is where he would be. 

Well that isn’t entirely true, now is it? 

It’s certainly the truth he presents. It is the comfortable reality in which he has painted himself and the world which he has crafted around himself to mask the fact that he had indeed thought of it. In fact, there had been times in the past when he thought of little else. He wasn’t a very sexual person, of course. Not like the rutting gorillas he used to work with and by proximity alone was forced to socialize with. His sexuality was a thing to which he was ambivalent towards so much of the time… But on the rare occasion such desire crawled inside of him and curled up in his belly, preoccupying his mind with thoughts of everything that he never liked to spare a thought to otherwise… Well, lately-- not even lately… More like for a very long while now, Oswald always seemed the object of that affection. Of that want. Of that  **hunger** .

Likewise, Oswald had never really craved sex before. In the abstract, sure. It was nice to imagine being touched and kissed and desired. He often fantasized about faceless men and craved wanton expressions of lecherous intent. But it never truly formed physically or practically. He had never met a person he both desired and trusted in such a way. It was a perfect storm of intimacy he found inside his friendship with Edward Nygma and here they were. And Oswald knew-- or at least was rather  _ almost _ entirely certain he knew just what is was that Ed wanted. But it was in that tiny percentage point of unsureness that lay the Penguin’s lack of action. If Ed wanted him, then he would say it. He would have to say the words. 

And lucky for him, Ed was just desperate enough to do so. 

Sort of.    
“Oswald, stop it! This isn’t a game.” He huffed, like a petulant child. 

“I’m not playing, Ed. I want to hear the words from your lips…” A thumb brushed over Ed’s bottom lip and both men, unaware of the other’s thoughts, considered just how easy it would be for Ed to lick that fingertip. He didn’t. He wasn’t that brave. The touch merely drew a sharp inhale followed by a shaky breath out as Oswald continued, smirking all along. “Say them, and you can have what you came here for.” Smugness seeped through his voice. 

“Oswald….” Ed grumbled and swallowed roughly. “Fine!” He spat. Enough was enough. They were adults. Ed was an adult. He could do this. “I want you to take me to bed, Oswald.” He said and his body seemed to bristle with chills at the simple act of voicing such a desire. 

Oswald’s smirk didn’t falter from his lips, but the expression of satisfaction in his eyes seemed to sparkle and waiver. It was replaced. They widened slightly and his own body was alight with a fresh kind of tension. He closed what little distance had been left between them and rested a hand on Ed’s cheek. “And what on earth would I do with you in my bed, Edward?” He sounded mocking, but only for the fact he was struggling to keep the tremble from his own voice. 

Ed was too desperate to be phased and he leaned down to be closer still, challenging him now. Saying it had been empowering-- freeing, even. A smirk of his own rose to his lips, as also came the perfect answer. 

“Anything you want.”

Oswald intook a sharp breath,cursing in his head as there was little doubt Ed caught that gasp. It was obvious. He had certainly stirred a certain fresh interest in the crime boss, even if his old interest still burned. 

“Anything?” That mockingness in his tone was giving way little by little with the fragments of his resolve, and he sounded almost in awe of such a concept at this point. He was in awe. 

_ Anything. _

Anything meant ripping away every layer of Ed’s clothing. It meant laying him out on the bed and brushing hands over the skin which he had always wondered about. Did he have scars from his wounds? He had been shot once. Stabbed now by Lee… And it was hardly a secret between them that there were things about his childhood which were unhappy. Oswald often wondered at them. Did Ed’s body bare markings of days long past? Of the things which he had gone through which made him so much stronger-- that made him the man Oswald knew? He wanted to trace every scar, every freckle, every inch of his flawed skin with kisses and caresses. He wanted to feel Ed reduced to a trembling, whimpering mess of a man, brought to his most primal state of desire by the sheer will of Oswald’s love for him, and-- 

No.

**NO.**

It wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about love. Oswald got carried away. This was lust. Nothing more. Nothing less. He moved the hand from his cheek, it was too tender. Too full of that love he couldn’t allow himself. He dragged his fingertips over Ed’s neck as he leaned in to whisper in his ear. 

“Are you sure you trust me?” There. It was just biting enough, just enough venom from their fights and their feuding and their hate… Just enough that Oswald could keep Ed convinced that this had nothing to do with love. And even more importantly, perhaps he could convince himself as well. 

It worked. Ed gasped harshly and tried to hold his tongue. Tried to hold back. Tried to suppress the rather pathetic sort of moan that managed it's way out of him as Oswald’s hand wrapped around his neck. It was easier said than done. It managed to escape all the same. A sound which came from the tips of his curling toes and rushing through his body, aching from him, exhaling in a way that was somehow more than a sound. It was a feeling. A feeling which was so much-- too much and it escaped in the soft breath he let out. Everything inside him, everything Oswald tells himself he doesn't feel anymore…Everything Ed insists he's never felt and yet here he stands. It’s lighting the air between them aflame. 

And it's just too much. 

Admitting it. Succumbing to it. Allowing it to overcome him. 

Ed was ready though. 

Ready to hand himself over to the simple fact he needed Oswald. He wasn't sure what he felt. Love. Like. Lust. Whatever it was, he accepted it all. Whatever it took for right here and now to have Oswald. In whatever way the kingpin chose. In  _ every _ way he chose. 

“I trust you.” Ed nodded softly when he found his voice again.

Before he could ask more, before either could-- Oswald moved to turn and catch Ed's lips. A deep, seeking, lingering kiss. It trapped the pair of them. Suddenly it was all hands and lips and teeth. Inexperience bled through every second of it for both of them but it was overshadowed by the time it took to get here and the wait they both endure. Ed’s hands gripped at the base of Oswald's spine, knotting in his suit jacket as Oswald gripped Ed close, cupping his shoulder with one hand as his other hand rested against the back of his neck, his nails raking against his hair. 

By the time the kiss broke, both were left breathless and panting and entangled with one another there, in an embrace neither had ever expected to come before this night. Staring into Oswald’s eyes, Ed knew he meant those words. He did trust him.  Maybe that was the scariest part of all of this. It was one thing to lust for him, or even love him. Ed had loved plenty of people before. Well… A few. He had loved Kristen. He had loved Isabella. He had even loved Lee. But he had never really trusted them. He was always so scared of them knowing everything about him that there was. Of them knowing his condition. His sickness. His darkness. His depravity--- his cruelty. They couldn’t know how much he enjoyed it all. How much fun he had when he was the Riddler and when the Riddler was him. They couldn’t know him really. He didn’t trust them to know. 

But he did Oswald. 

Oswald was his friend, and he cared for him, and for whatever reason, he trusted him. Deeply. Completely.  Oswald knew it too. In this moment, at least, he knew it. He could see it laced with the fear and anticipation that spun around in Ed’s dark eyes-- the storm beneath the clouds of want. It was enough. Love, might never come, but this? Oswald could be content with this. He just knew it. 

“I’m not sure how wise that is, Edward.” He whispered hotly in his ear and gave a tug to his hair suddenly only causing Ed to whimper with the sweet pleasure such aggression brought. Yes. This was it. This was why he was here. To be wanted this way. This way that only Oswald had ever wanted him. God it felt good. Surrender was blissful. And he had barely started. 

The proceeding moments are all hands and greed, grabbing one another’s clothes. Oswald mostly is working to strip Edward, but the taller man is giving as good as he gets. He takes off Oswald’s jacket, his tie, his waist coat,  he untucks his shirt--- Oh but Oswald is ahead of him. Suddenly Ed’s pajama shirt is falling to the floor amidst the scatter of other clothing and neither man takes the time to consider how very inexperienced either is, how eager they must seem. Pretense has been lost somewhere amidst their kissing which still is consuming most of their thought. Their hands work, but their lips keep crashing into one another’s. Breaking the feeling and stopping the sensation feels rather like an act of maddening deprivation. Unnecessary. Perhaps even fatal. 

They might have gone on like that if Oswald’s hands didn’t blindly come in contact with skin… Ed’s skin.  His fingertips grazed the warm expanse of Edward’s exposed torso and somehow suddenly, that is all there is. Just his skin. Kissing lip forgotten, or rather forgone as he moved to kiss down the curve of Ed’s jaw, the indentation of his neck-- lips trailing the breadth of his exposed collar bone as every noise he could elicit from Ed seemed to only drive him on and spur him further. Oswald found himself dragging a featherlight rake of his teeth against Ed’s pulse point, only suddenly nip at the skin and make Ed’s whole body shudder deliciously. He was so reactive. Oswald could have spent hours just experimenting like this. He could have stripped him down and used his teeth against every inch of the man’s skin to make him tremble and writhe. But perhaps another time...

This time urgency was coming over them. That need had not left and only grew hotter and more desperate. The bite only made Edward more pliant as Oswald finished stripping him down, fingers fumbling only slightly as Oswald unties Ed’s pajama bottoms and let them fall, pulling him to step out of them. Another step. Another. 

_ Thud. _

They bumped into Oswald’s bed and the kingpin let his knees bend so he was sitting. Edward was pulled astride his lap in nothing but his boxer briefs. The moonlight streaming through the curtains was mingling with the dull fireplace embers still glowing and amidst that all inviting darkness, Oswald wonders if Ed could ever be more beautiful. Flushed with desire, kiss swollen lips parted, a sincerity-- a vulnerability in his eyes which on a normal occasion could make Oswald’s knees weak, but here and now just made his entire body want to collapse into itself. Into the depths of those eyes. Into the beauty of the man who gripped his shoulders and was rocking his hips against Oswald’s lap. Grinding against him. 

Why he had stopped now of all times to admire him, Ed didn’t know. But it was frustrating. Oswald’s trousers were as well. And his shirt. Ed began to thrust needily against Oswald in this position where he had little other choice, and began to undo the buttons of the Penguin’s shirt more intently than before. Ed could feel his own hardness rubbing against Oswald’s. The friction was good, but not really. It wasn’t enough. It was maddeningly little compared to what he wanted. An idea which fluctuated second to second throughout this encounter, and still his mind raced with the possibilities of what they could do to one another. But he had given Oswald control. He was at his mercy. Ed moaned at this thought, or perhaps it was caused by the way Oswald had moved his hands to the small of Ed’s back and dragged his tongue tentatively over Ed’s nipple. 

Even in his beauty, Ed makes the lewdest sounds which push Oswald to want more of them. He begins teasing and toying with Ed’s nipples relentlessly until Ed finally has Oswald’s shirt unbuttoned, but instead of bothering to even touch his chest, forgoes it in favor of working open Oswald’s trousers and pushing his hand inside. The touch of Ed’s finger against his length has Oswald making a noise all his own. An echoing sort of moan that seems to reverberate through Oswald’s body and escape like the very manifestation of a wish fulfilled. Which of course it is. To be touched by Ed is…  _ Everything _ . 

Ed has the upper hand, but he has no idea what to do with it. His hand is teasing, but unsure. He soon draws Oswald’s length out of his pants and strokes him as he might have done himself. Oswald’s hips buck upwards where Ed rests in his lap and the kingpin whimpers softly as he pulls Ed into another kiss. His hand moves to push Ed’s own away though-- and inspite of giving control to Oswald, Ed can’t help but feel disappointed. He pulls away, panting and looking questioningly. He wants to touch him. Wants to feel him. Wants to know what other sorts of sounds he can draw from Oswald…

God how can Oswald answer that gaze? 

How can he say if Ed touches him too much more in this moment, he might lose himself to the pleasure? Might fall apart before they begin? Might come without ever even getting either of them completely naked? Short answer is, he can’t. He just can’t. He can barely manage intelligible thought in this moment besides and the complexity of that explanation feels beyond him. 

“I-inside you….” He struggles with just those two little words and they make his already flushed face darken with a blush. How ineloquent. But Ed had said anything. And in this moment, there is nothing Oswald can even vaguely imagine more. 

Ed blinks at this, falling silent and still for a moment. He’s processing but internally Oswald is collapsing as he feels suddenly so sure he’s ruined the mood. In actuality, that was just one of the things Ed hadn’t really considered happening tonight. Not that he hadn’t thought of it before, not that he hadn’t indulged in a fantasy of being on either end of it with Oswald before-- when he did fantasize. He had touched himself, fingered himself, choked back the syllables of Oswald’s name as he found one unsatisfying climax after another. But to have Oswald want him like that. It was intimate. It felt intimate. Not that everything else wasn’t. Edward just needed a moment to process the request. 

Suddenly, he was standing up, getting off of Oswald, whose eyes had never left Ed and were full of alarm at his movement. Was he leaving? Was this over? Did Oswald ask the one thing Ed didn’t want? He stared as Ed removed his briefs to stand nude before him. And suddenly all of Oswald’s insecurity reached a grinding halt as his eyes raked over the sight of Edward Nygma utterly exposed before him. He was just so beautiful. Desperately beautiful. His eyes raked down and then back up and met Ed’s eyes which had turned slightly sheepish under such a thorough inspection. Oswald looked in awe. He wasn’t sure what to say, struggling to find words, but was thankful when he didn’t have to as Ed moved back closer to him, gently taking Oswald’s hand to guide him up to stand. He pushed Oswald’s open shirt and waistcoat off and tugged up his undershirt to discard it. Then reached out to push down Oswald’s trousers and underwear to leave him likewise naked before his hand cupped the shorter man’s jaw and drew him into a soft kiss. 

“Inside me.” He whispered breathily when he pulled back, nodding lightly and causing Oswald to moan weakly and grip Ed’s hips, once again pulling him back so they could fall onto the bed together, this time with Oswald laying down and Edward laying beside him. They broke apart only long enough to settle their positions and pull each other in close. They fit together. Oswald wondered if Ed noticed it. Ed was too busy draping one of his long legs over Oswald’s hips to notice much of anything except how warm his skin was. They were soon rubbing against one another with weak whimpers and soft moans, Oswald reaching back and fumbling to get into his nightstand and with draw the small bottle of lube he kept there-- for himself exclusively until now. He coated a finger, much as he would have done if pleasuring himself. Only this time-- this time he was pushing against Ed’s entrance, gently trying to go slow and easy with him as he felt Ed’s body stiffen slightly at the intrusion. It took time. Breathing. Relaxing. Soon Oswald was able to sink his whole finger in without much resistance and even gently curled it to try and catch that spot… That oh so important spot within Ed that would have him--- 

“Ahh!” He gasped loudly and bucked his hips as his eyes screwed shut tight. Oswald grinned. Again. And again. He thrusted his finger in and out and in and out, and each time he made sure to have just the right angle so that by the time he added his second finger, Ed was a mess of sweat soaked curls on his forehead and trembling limbs wrapped around Oswald. Ed’s hands clenched against Oswald’s shoulder blades as he struggled to pull him closer even as there was no closer. They weren’t even close. They simply were together. And it wasn’t enough still. With his rising pleasure, nothing was enough. Amidst a slew of moans and croaked out ‘oh dear’s, Oswald managed to have the man sufficiently prepared for him. Or at least as prepared as either could bare. Right now, what both needed was the other, and both men silently let the it hang between them the simple fact to stop at this moment would be a fate worse than death. 

Oswald’s lips brushed against Ed’s. It wasn’t a kiss. Somehow in this moment, he didn’t want to kiss him. No. He wanted Ed’s lips free to make every sound they could form as he slicked himself with lube and lined up with Ed’s entrance. Let him make every noise. Oswald just craved the proximity. Every touch had chills running down his spine. Every time Edward flexed his thighs which now hung on Oswald’s slender hips-- every time Ed rocked or breathed or gripped against Oswald, the shorter man felt it everywhere. Were he not focusing so much energy on satisfying Ed, he might have tumbled into a premature orgasm just from the euphoric sensation of intimacy. Luckily though, Oswald had not waited this long to deliver onto Ed anything short of the most earth shattering orgasm imaginable.

Oswald’s nose rested against Ed’s cheek and he caught sight that his eyes were still closed. It wasn’t personal of course, and quite the opposite was a simple fact of Ed wanting to stave off the tears that seemed to loom for him. But somehow it felt… Hurtful. Avoidant. Oswald found a stirring of old wounds being pricked at as he stilled his hips and suddenly shifted their bodies so he was atop Edward and the sheer movement was enough to startle his dark eyes open. 

“Look at me.” Oswald murmured, and it was little more than some sort of possessive growl. “I want to see your eyes and I want you to see mine.” Perhaps moments ago, he would have felt unsure about such a request. But he had just watched Ed’s body tremble and quake with the force of carnal bliss Oswald was capable delivering to him. He felt less shy. He felt more sure. And perhaps more than anything, Oswald just felt entitled. His fists flexed where they held him up on either side of Ed’s head, his fingers gripping bed-sheets, and Ed nodded up at him with an expression which was just so pleasingly obedient. 

“O-okay…” He stammered. Truth be told, Oswald was thinking of the many incarnations of Ed’s affection he had known, and wondering at the ones he hadn’t, and felt disgust boiling his blood to imagine this act between them being a moment for Ed to imagine anyone else but Oswald inside him. Meanwhile, Ed just felt… So much. Too much. Everything. All at once. The pleasure his body was receiving was that which it had never known and his eyes closed with the sheer overwhelming intensity of it all. It wasn’t that he didn’t want this to be Oswald, it was that he never dreamed anything could feel as good as Oswald did. 

The two kissed again, soft, chaste almost. In a way that was loving in just the way Oswald had so briefly ago vowed not to let tonight be. Promises to ones’ self so often go by the wayside when something one truly wants presents itself. Or so he would reassure himself later on. Right now.. There is no later. There is only now. The present. The moment he is locked in-- they are locked in which surrounds and suspends everything around them as Oswald gently lines up and begins to thrust that first painful, agonizingly measured, delicate as such a thing can possibly be, thrust inside of Ed. He sinks into him. He’s prepared him well enough, but enough is never quite enough and so he lets himself rest, buried to the hilt within him, beginning to press kisses over his strained face which is being so dutiful as his eyes stay open and his body tenses all around him. 

It takes a moment. A moment that Oswald fears is too short just as he thinks it feels too long, and Ed gives a small nod, arms moving from where they had gone lax against Oswald’s shoulders, to grip against them now with renewed fervor. 

“Are you sure?” 

His voice is dripping with it. It’s gone. His desire to hide his-- his ability to. It’s just all gone. Slipping was one thing, but to collapse entirely-- there is no hiding it. Oswald loves him. So much. Too much. And his voice is saturated with that gentility that can only come with genuine love, whispered close to his ear as a small kiss brushes over Ed’s cheek. Oswald can’t hide it, and Ed suddenly can’t hide from it. He is loved. It’s a fresh way of stealing his panting breath away. 

Maybe that’s what tonight was always about. Maybe that’s why he came here. The word “please” echoes from him and it feels so loud even if it’s actually so soft. It isn’t even a question. It isn’t begging. Not for this. Not for sex. Not even as Oswald begins a slow, steady rhythm inside him with the clear intent to build to harder, faster things. No… That please is like a promise. Like a quiet plea to never lose this. Because it is one thing to trust Oswald to know him. To trust Oswald to see him. To know that he has been beared in all that he is and all he has ever been to this man who is now atop him, thrusting into him, making him moan and whimper… It is it’s own unique sort of truth to be seen for who he is. To be accepted for it. But it is something entirely new and entirely terrifying to be loved for it. No one has ever really loved Ed, not even Ed. Not for all of him. Not in the way he can suddenly feel in Oswald’s movements. It’s so sentimental. So stupidly, pathetically sentimental. He had come here seeking that oh so desperate sort of relief for the pooling lechery he felt for the other man, and now as he lay under him-- staring at those eyes that no right to be so blue and so beautiful and so full of painful honesty… Ed felt exposed in ways he never bargained for and can never take back. 

Meanwhile, physically, Oswald is building speed, having lost all capacity to hide how he feels. Rejection be damned. Having to lie, to cover it up, to pretend anymore… Not now. He can work something out later, and blame it on the endorphins if he needs to, even if neither of them would ever believe that. He knows how he is looking at Ed. How he is touching him. A hand snaking down to wrap around Ed’s burgeoning arousal and stroke in time with his own momentum, and Oswald knows as he leans down and kisses along Ed’s cheek and jawline and the tip of his nose and climbs ever faster towards the precipice of climax. He knows that they both know. If he noticed the tears, he would have ignored them, but all the same he leans in and kisses Ed’s neck and allows the taller man a chance to let them fall. He’s crying. Not with pain or anger or frustration. With joy, and with relief. They come just as Oswald lets himself mutter those three words they weren’t supposed to be allowed to say. Neither of them. Ever. Damn him, Ed considers, for being so unfairly brave.

“I love you.” 

It hurts in a way. Because Ed had been so sure he would never feel that again. That… hope. It was such an unfair sort of thing. To feel hopeful. To feel belief in anything. Let alone this. Let alone a man he was supposed to despise, and yet who had somehow made him happier than any one else he had ever known. More than happy… Content… No, more than content… 

Understood. 

That was the word. Oswald pulled back just in time to catch a tear rolling from beneath Edward’s glasses and there is that slight flicker of concern that is only met with Ed’s hands suddenly moving up to grip Oswald’s hair head, pulling him in as his fingertips tangled with the mess of black hair. Its far from the most suave kiss Edward had ever given, and even by tonight’s standards of desperation, it held it’s own charm of eagerness. But it’s as it breaks and their eyes meet again, that Ed whispers something which had Oswald not been so near orgasm probably would have been enough in itself. 

“I love you too.” Breathed. Hot. Soft. Filling the already charged air with a new kind of luxurious energy… An energy which if only it could be collected, held in their hands, captured and saved for days when things were bleak and empty. It was that oh so dangerous thing Ed hated and yet was blossoming all the same. That hope. Beautiful. Enduring. Overpowering. 

When Oswald came it was an act of resolve being overcome with emotion. He couldn’t hold back anymore. The pleasure of his body was being overrun by the fulfilling of his soul and it all worked together so that he spilled inside of Ed with ragged breaths and rasped words of love. Now that he had said them-- now that had said them back-- there was nothing that could stop Oswald from ever saying them again. His words combine with the hand which still is clumsily working Ed’s shaft and his body riding into the taller man through his own orgasm, is all it takes to drive Ed over the edge and into the abyss of ecstasy. He comes as well, and both men tremble and cry out, moan and grunt their way through orgasms which are nearly simultaneous and desperately satisfying, consuming both of them for an imagined eternity of elation before settling in the ebb and flow, waves of pleasure giving way to afterglow where they collapse into the mattress beneath them. Oswald falls beside Ed. Both breathless. Both wordless. Both perhaps a little afraid of what the other will say. Was this a mistake? Did those words just happen? Would they be taken back? Would they be ignored? Were they even real? Had each just wanted it so much that they let themselves imagine it all? Would either man vanish, as the veil dropped and this all was revealed just some elaborate fantasy born of their own stupid denial and pride and refusal to admit the truth…

Ed was the brave one who came there that night, and it was for Ed to be the brave one to stay. Oswald had shifted, using a blanket to clean the pair of them of the mess they had made and then discarding it to the floor and laying back with eyes wide, and uncertain. Until, of course, Ed took up the sheet and moved to snuggle in against Oswald, close and affectionate. His simple advance was met with greedy arms pulling him in and close. Oswald’s nose buried against the top of Ed’s head as Ed just enjoyed the feeling of his arms being tucked around Oswald’s torso and his face nuzzling against his chest. 

“I love you….” Comes a whisper. 

“I love you too.” Is the return. 

And both know that this is only the start of something, and the first of many nights to be ended just so. With just those same seven words between them. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos me, dude! I need it. Just like I need them comments. Hand 'em over. NOW. 
> 
>  
> 
> please. XD


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